


So Close That I Can't See What's Going On

by unwhithered



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwhithered/pseuds/unwhithered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some lines that Warren won't cross, some things that he just can't make himself comfortable with, even for Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Close That I Can't See What's Going On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strippedhalo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strippedhalo/gifts).



There are some boundaries that Warren needs to hold onto. Learning to let people in has always been hard for the oft-scorned son of a criminal and so, at some point, he taught himself to be a private person, playing his cards close to his chest and never letting too much show through the cracks in the walls he’s built up around himself.

Moving in with Will during college was a big enough adjustment at first – having someone banging around in the kitchen when he got up, forgetting to turn the TV off before they went to bed, making bad jokes at four in the morning when they were wrung out from studying for finals and trying to keep the world in one piece for long enough to actually take those finals, it was all so unfamiliar. Nice, too, when he thought about waking up to Will singing along to the radio and got that girly warm feeling in his chest that he would never tell Will about. But it was a big step, and for all the mornings that Warren grinned at Will’s bad singing and cuffed him on the back of his head on the way to the table, there was one where he seriously considered torching his noisy, messy, stupid best friend, and wondered why they were friends at all.

Not much has changed now that they’re together. Will is still noisy, messy and stupid. He still sings along to the radio in the mornings (sometimes Warren joins him, quietly) and leaves the TV on at night and forgets to put away his weights, which are too heavy for Warren to move. They still scuffle over the remote and punch the video game winner and snap at each other when they’ve forgotten their homework until the last minute and stayed up too late finishing it.

Warren still sleeps in his own room, even though he wakes up some mornings to rings of fingerprint bruises circling his wrists and the dull ache of satisfaction in his bones. Will is just on the other side of the wall with matching burns on his palms, reminding them of the limits of their invulnerability, and it’s thrilling, an adrenaline rush that Warren doesn’t know what to do with.

He thinks that Will understands, at least most of the time. Because they both know that this isn’t like what Will and Layla were – this isn’t gentle or simple or easy like that, this isn’t the result of an innocent childhood crush, and Warren isn’t like Layla, isn’t sweet and soft and needy. Warren has boundaries, has places he won’t go and affections he doesn’t know how to accept. Will has to understand that.

Except sometimes Will’s hands linger a little too long when they’re stripping off costumes at night. Sometimes Warren looks up from his textbooks and realizes that Will’s toes are tucked under his thigh, or Will’s knees are bumping the curve of his spine. And sometimes – and this is the hardest, the thing that makes Warren hesitate, makes him wonder – Will looks at Warren as he’s climbing out of bed and sliding into his jeans, and there’s something in his eyes.

But Warren always shakes it off and leaves anyways. Will always smiles at him in the morning and bumps his hip when they pass in the kitchen, kisses him against the wall before they run to class.

They go on like this for a long time, and Warren doesn’t spare much thought to changing their routine. It works for them.


End file.
